All He Doesn't Know
by librawriter
Summary: What really happened after Hermione was attacked by Bellatrix at the Manor...


_A/N: This is a missing moment from the Deathly Hallows. What I think really happened after Ron pulled Hermione from the chandelier at the Malfoy Mansion. Originally published on another site, but for some reason, that site deleted __all__ of my work. No mind, I like FF better anyway! _

All He Doesn't Know

You feel the pain sink in only seconds after opening your eyes. Even the gasp that escapes your lips rips through you like fire…

Have you been sliced apart by a thousand razor blades?

Has someone torn you limb from limb but somehow left the only part of you that thinks and feels intact?

_Are_ you still intact?

Yet, you must be, for your eyes _are_ open, though it takes great difficulty. Knowing that you can still open your eyes means that you are not dead, and this thought helps you to breathe a feeble sigh of relief, which also comes with another wave of shocking pain.

Your head rolls slowly to the right, where you see him- Ron, your hero. Now it all comes back to you, the horrible nightmare you just endured, where Bellatrix was trying to kill you, and almost _did_ kill you-- the way you can barely move is your reminder of the terrible, gruesome pain she inflicted on you. You can still see her sick, twisted grin as you lay on the floor beneath her crushing foot, writhing in agony as begged her to stop. You remember now, the way you closed your eyes and wanted death to come, how you almost let it all go, until you heard Ron.

You heard Ron calling for you, screaming for you, and the sound of his voice had penetrated your soul just as you were ready to accept the end of your life. Yes, it was Ron who saved you; it had been his shouting your name from a place you could not see that had given you strength to go on. He was trying to reach you. Hearing him, knowing he was trying to get to you, had changed everything.

It was almost as if had sent you an invisible Patronous, to rest by your side until he could come. You remember now the way you whispered his name against the cold floor of the mansion, how you clung to the desperate hope of him coming for you. That thought alone was enough, the thought that he would be there soon, and something inside of you solidified and became determined to pull through what Bellatrix was doing to you.

You heard Ron calling for you and you knew you _had_ to make it, _had_ to survive. There were too many reasons, too many things he would not know if Bellatrix won and you lost.

Now, Ron has just closed to door to the small but comfortable room where someone has laid you across a soft, low bed. When he turns, he sees you watching him, and his eyes soften in a way that make you wish you could get up from the bed which you are laying in and run to him. But you can barely breathe, let alone move. You try, honest to God, you try, to move towards him, but you're too weak. You've almost died. The curse has taken a lot out of you.

You've almost_ died_. It sinks in now, as you look at the one person you thought of before you lost consciousness. He is the one who you held on to your life for, and you cannot move from the bed to put your arms around him and thank him. You feel the familiar tightening in your throat as your eyes blur with tears of frustration from not being able to go to him, the way you want.

"Hermione…"

He says your name, and you are reminded again of the way he said your name before, when he kept you alive and didn't even know it. He is the reason you are still alive. Ron is all your reasons, for everything good and wonderful and alive. He doesn't know that, and you can't tell him that now. It isn't fair.

"Hermione," he says again softly, as though he's afraid you haven't really come back. You think of all the years that have passed between the two of you, all the time that has been wasted when all that you should have said to him took just three little words. Only three.

"Ron," you say as steady as you can. "_Ron_." Your voice is trembling, and weak; your throat dry. He doesn't seem to notice. His eyes have now clouded over, and you are shocked to see one, two, three and more tears roll down over his face.

"Why…?" you manage before you have to stop speaking, because it hurts you. It hurts to move. You swallow, and try to gather more strength. You don't want him to cry. You don't want him to hurt ever, not in any way.

"I want to hold you…" he breaks off, unable to continue for a second. He chokes back a sob, takes a small step forward and tries again. "I want to hold you but…I don't know _how_," he says through clenched teeth, as if angry with himself for what he thinks he's unable to do. His fists are so tightly closed his knuckles are white. His face is absolutely desperate…

The thing is that you _want_ him to hold you; you've never wanted anything more in your life. You try to raise your arms towards him, but the attempt is insufficient—you lose your strength halfway there, wincing with pain as your arms collapse to the bed. Your face is wet too, as tears of frustration are flowing down your own face, collecting on your pillow, and you don't even have the strength to wipe them away. Why have there always been obstacles for you and him? Why must things always be complicated?

You take a deep breath, giving it all you've got.

"Come here…please…" you are able to whisper and ever word feels like you are taking your last breath, but you had to risk it, had to risk passing out to let him know that you need him now, more than ever before.

The unsteady attempt must be enough, for he has crossed the room so quickly he could have Apparated to you, and has thrown himself before you next to the low bed, his arms going tightly around your waist. He presses his face into your lap as his fingers clench convulsively against the material of your ripped sweater. You hear a low moan escape him. He is weeping against you, crying for you. He is showing you sides to him that you didn't know existed, but feel glad that it does. It means that something more could be very possible between you and him. It means you weren't just imagining the extra affection and attention you'd been getting from him since the three of you—you, Harry, and Ron-- set out.

You don't dare think what you want so desperately to be true, though that matters little in this moment. What truly matters is that there is a different person here before you, a person you have known and not really known fully until right now. You close your eyes, and hold his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can. You must tell him-- you must tell him now.

But wait, he is saying something to you, something he barely whispers into your lap, his breath hot from words your thighs get to hear before the rest of you. He looks up at you, his eyes red and swollen. "Don't you die on me. Don't you ever leave me, Hermione. I love you," he says thickly.

Again, you are shocked-- that it would happen like this, that he said it first, that he feels the same way you do. He is in tears, yet the words he said were spoken with confidence. It's all in the way he is looking at you now, as his gorgeous blue eyes cross that invisible frontier to your soul.

"D'you hear me? I _love_ you," he says fiercely, holding your waist more tightly than before. "I don't care whether or not you feel the same…but I need you to know…"

Here he looks at some place over you head, and that confidence from just a second ago falters. It isn't true, the last part of his confession. You must get it out. No matter how much it hurts you to talk, to move, you must get it out.

"No, I do," you say, looking right at him, making it clear that there are no mistaken words coming from your mouth. Mustering all your strength, you slide your arms to his shoulders, ignoring the nearly blinding pain that the move causes. "I love you. Ron. Always. Me, too."

There is a brief moment where neither of you dare to even breathe. But it lasts for just that, just a moment, and then you are entwined in each other's arms, rather, he has wrapped his arms around you, pulling you so close to him that it's easy for you to hold him back, which you do as hard as you can. You can feel his heart beat, and the rhythm of it fills you with something you can hardly describe. You became a woman just now, and you know now, today, that the two of you will never be apart again.

He looks at you, blushing, and puts a hand to your cheek. Your eyes are locked onto one another, and then he leans in. Your eyes drift close just as you feel his lips press softly, gently, tenderly against your own.

You keep your eyes closed long after you know the kiss is over. This moment will last forever in your mind. You know there will be more kisses, gentler ones and ones more passionate, later, when you have more strength. When you have more energy, you are going to jump into his arms and never let him go.

"I'm going to protect you with all that I have. I won't let any harm come to you again. I promise," he tells you. He grabs your hand tightly, then raises it to his lips, kissing your fingers. You nod, and smile at him, at the boy who is all you've ever dreamed he could be.

He doesn't know it, but you have made the same promise to him. You did before you and he and Harry even set out.

He doesn't know it now, but one day, he will. One day soon, he will.


End file.
